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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597251">Through The Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm39/pseuds/Bookworm39'>Bookworm39</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo: Kid Icarus edition [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Super Smash Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(those are more vague though), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Gore, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fire Emblem: Awakening Spoilers, Horror, Kid Icarus: Uprising Spoilers, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, Swearing, TELL ME IF I NEED TO TURN UP THE RATING IDK WHAT IT SHOULD BE, There is Major Character Death but again it's a nightmare and doesn't stick, Trauma, World of Light spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:20:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm39/pseuds/Bookworm39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He felt his heart skip a beat every time he saw that smile. He was certain nothing could ruin that feeling, but he knew his subconscious would take that as a challenge.<br/>---<br/>(Bad Things Happen Bingo-Impaled Chest-Smash 'verse)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dark Pit &amp; Pit (Kid Icarus), Dark Pit (Kid Icarus) &amp; Lucina (Fire Emblem), Dark Pit (Kid Icarus)/Link (Legend of Zelda), Minor examples of the platonic ships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo: Kid Icarus edition [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Through The Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you want to send in suggestions for AUs/characters for certain prompts, check out my card here: https://the-temple-of-light.tumblr.com/post/619614589665050624/annnnd-heres-an-up-to-date-version-of-my-bad (I'll take requests either as asks there or comments here!)<br/>I did NOT plan for this to be how I finally introduced my Smash crackship, but here we are! I had a few 'fics almost done towards the end of last year, but I was also taking part in a bunch of different fandom Secret Santas+IRL holiday stuff, so I couldn't commit to finishing any of them. I was going to post one that was more pleasant as my first 'fic of the year, but A: I ended up with a vent piece I wanted to share first, and B: this story wouldn't shut up until I posted it. So here it is! Next should be that less scary, backstory-type thing, then maaaaybe the Magnus 'fic? We'll see!<br/>(Also a fluffier story for this ship at some point, I SWEAR I don't only write angst-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A mortal’s skin would’ve been cut open on the rough, broken-glass-like sand beneath his hands and knees. Instead, he just wheezed and coughed, clutching his chest. He could tell he’d been struck across the chest, bruising his ribs, but he didn’t know what had hit him. When he looked up, nothing was there.</p><p>
  <em>“Fight, little bird. Unless you’re giving up?”</em>
</p><p>He couldn’t force words out. He took a deep breath, making the mistake of closing his eyes for a second. A deafening crack flared up behind him, and he didn’t even get a chance to look back before-</p><p>Dark Pit gasped as he landed hard on his side. He rolled over, jerking at the sheets tangled around him. He took a moment to compose himself, before he heard another crash, this time outside his door. He flinched, before hearing voices shouting. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but he could make out the tone. It wasn’t a problem. He was safe.</p><p>This, unfortunately, wasn’t that surprising. An overactive imagination and unpleasant memories were a horrible combination. He had the nightmares less frequently now <strike>at least, that had been the case before Galeem and Dharkon’s attack</strike>, but they would still flare up.</p><p>
  <em>Cold, almost-scaly tendrils wrapped around his wrists and ankles, much too gently, less like binding and more like a puppet’s strings.</em>
</p><p>...mostly centering around the Chaos Kin. The same monster that had stolen most of his early years wouldn’t seem to loosen its grip on his psyche. He could rarely tell what was happening in his dreams-flashes of broken buildings, and violent struggles, and ruins he was often too late to save.</p><p>
  <em>The vines had rotten to a dead black. He ran a hand over the comms panel, looking at the failed distress signal, trying to ignore the smear of blood on the floor where the goddess had been dragged away.</em>
</p><p>The nightmares weren’t usually so cruel as to show him the death of anyone he knew-though it wasn’t uncommon for him to have to step over their bodies. It also wasn’t all that rare for him to have to weave his way through a field of dead mortals, destroyed by a power beyond their understanding. No, only specific people had their deaths played out in front of him.</p><p>
  <em>He clutched the ash-covered shred of white fabric in his fists, unable to take his eyes off the charred corpse in front of him, unable to even throw up.</em>
</p><p>At first, it was only Pit. Who was, of course, the only one to learn of this little ‘problem,’ about a week into Pittoo's time in the Smash tournament, after he’d caught Dark Pit slipping into his neighboring room with shaky hands and his weapon in a deathgrip. He’d mostly had to hold out hope when he lived with the Forces of Nature-have to trust that it was just a nightmare-but being able to walk in and look and note that Pit was still very much alive was a huge relief to his sleep-and-fear-addled brain. And as long as Pit was the only one portrayed in such detail, this would be fine.</p><p>
  <em>He heard her scream his name, and through the fog over his mind and his eyes, he could see her barely holding him back, a white-knuckled grip on her blade and tears in her eyes. “Not again!” She would fall just moments later.</em>
</p><p>Ah, so Pit was wrong when he swore there was ‘no harm in making friends.’ It gave that tiny, twisted part of his mind another target. And he could never quite bring himself to slip to the next floor above him and into Lucina’s room to make sure she was still there. It would be harder to explain; he had, after all, reassured her, when the two had shared their stories with each other, that he was fine. So he would have to be fine.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strike>He’d been fine, for a little while. Until he wasn’t. After all, every cyclopean monster that tore him from his own body tended to look alike in the long run.</strike>
  </em>
</p><p>But thankfully, that was all he had to suffer through. He told himself that, at some point, he'd run out of horrible things to happen to them. The nightmares would fade away. He would be fine.</p><p>There was a flaw in that logic, of course.</p><p>"Dark Pit?"</p><p>The voice chimed in through telepathy, causing him to jolt. He looked up, eyeing the figure over him, silhouette highlighted by the dusk light, blue eyes glimmering- <em>hokay, get your crap together, Pittoo.</em> He turned back to his sketchbook, then muttered, "Hey, Blondie."</p><p>Link sat down next to him, Sheikah Slate in hand. A few of the more tech/magic-savvy residents had found a way to broadcast the slate to the angels' wreaths, and while it was a bit stilted, it was an easy way to let them talk while the two tried to learn Hylian sign language. Link gently dropped the slate into his lap, tilting his head at Dark Pit as he typed. "You alright?"</p><p>"Yeah, just… tired. Didn't sleep well." He tried to focus on the paper, but perked up at the smell of something sweet and baked. He didn’t even bother being surprised. “I see you come bearing gifts.”</p><p>He heard Link snort at the overdramatic reaction, and he shoved his face a bit further behind the sketchbook. “Yeah. I tried a bunch of different pastries today, and I figured you and Pit were going to tolerate eating all of these the best-well, Kirby, but he won’t really taste-test them-”</p><p>“He’ll just swallow them.”</p><p>Link nodded, then sheepishly handed Dark Pit a large tote bag. “I’ll let you take first pickings, though.”</p><p>“Thanks…” Dark Pit caught himself fidgeting with the strap on the bag for a moment, before he finally cleared his throat and started sifting through it, trying not to get too distracted.</p><p>It was only a matter of time.</p>
<hr/><p>He elbowed the door open, almost stumbled over the cracked floor. "Hey! HEY!" His voice shook. "Can anyone hear me? Is anyone there?!"</p><p>Nobody. Nobody anywhere in the dorms. He was alone. The only sound was the wheeze of his breathing and the soft shuffle of his feet on the hardwood floor.</p><p>Good.</p><p>The ceiling above him collapsed, and he darted sideways with a curse. He swung his staff forward, blasting upwards, right into the mass of tendrils that came through the ceiling. One of the limbs shot forward, slashing open a cut on his cheek. He winced, slapping a hand at the stinging sensation, while the other kept the staff on level with the creature, firing off a few more shots.</p><p>He had to hold it off. He knew-somehow he <em>knew</em>-that somebody had gotten away. He had to protect them. He wasn't sure who they were, but he had to.</p><p>
  <em>Unless you want all of them dead?</em>
</p><p>And even as he fought it, the dark purple tentacles seemed to turn black when he blinked, then back to purple, and the eye in the center flashed between light blue and sickly yellow, and soon he wasn't so sure what he was fighting but he had to stop it, he couldn't let it win-</p><p>Another tendrils flew at his face, but before he could react, it fell sideways, as if struck by something (an… arrow?), and before he could react to that, a hand grabbed his wrist and jerked him away. He stumbled out the front door and down the steps and was dragged around the building and thrown to the ground behind a shrub and now he could focus on-</p><p>"Link?"</p><p>The Hylian was scraped up, and his hair had started to fall in his face, and the look in his eyes bordered on broken, but he held Dark Pit by the shoulders, tight and secure and safe. One hand moved to Dark Pit's cheek, and the tiniest smile appeared on Link's face. Dark Pit let himself smile back.</p><p>The window next to them shattered.</p><p>Dark Pit was flung backwards, and as he lay there wheezing, he couldn't help but notice that the grass and greenery around him seemed to have died suddenly in the half-second he was knocked down. Everything had looked normal outside… and then it hadn't. He felt a tugging at his wrist again, and he jolted back to his senses.</p><p>Link was fighting off a cluster of tentacles, sword flashing, back turned to Dark Pit, unaware that the angel was being dragged away. Link seemed to stagger for a moment before regaining his footing, cutting down several tentacles even as he got further and further away-</p><p>“<strong>Blondie!</strong>”</p><p>Link spun on his heel, and for a half second, Dark Pit saw a flash of terror in his eyes.</p><p>Then his eyes went blank.</p><p>Blood spurted across Dark Pit’s tunic, dark red barely visible against black. The clawed tip of the tentacle had stopped right above his feet, and the same crimson dripped on the grass between his sandals. He thought he heard the blade clatter to the ground, but it was hard to hear anything but the faint gurgle of blood in lungs. He couldn’t bring himself to try to move, even as the grip around his wrists slid away.</p><p>
  <em>“Did you expect this to go any different?”</em>
</p><p>He could only stare, until the tendril jerked back and the knight fell.</p>
<hr/><p>Some nightmares caused him to jolt awake with a scream, or even fall out of bed. Some took him too long to even realize he was awake, with him lying in darkness for several moments before finally opening his eyes.</p><p>He’d never had a dream that left him sobbing.</p><p>When he sat up, he wasn’t sure how to react. His hands shook, his breath quivered, but he couldn’t get the tangled mess of thoughts in his head to string together into one coherent emotion. He looked at his hands, then at the empty bag he’d tossed on the floor next to his bed the night before. Only then did he start to cry.</p><p>It started as a gasp, then a breathy expletive, then the tears started to fall. He clapped a hand over his mouth, the other bracing against his thigh, as if trying to hold himself up. Weeping turned to choked noises, the angel curling in further on himself the longer it went on.</p><p>
  <em>Why did I expect this to go any different?</em>
</p><p>After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked up, finally took note of the dim glow that lit up the room. He glanced towards the window, seeing the red-streaked sky, reminding himself when he flinched that it was just the sunrise. One hand drifted to clench around a blanket, thumb running over the soft texture in an unconscious attempt to sooth himself. It didn’t really work.</p><p>Before he had a moment to think about it, he was halfway down the staircase that led down from his floor. He wasn’t sure why he was still certain that it was just a nightmare. He also wasn’t sure why that didn’t seem to stop him.</p><p>
  <em>I just want to see him.</em>
</p><p>He tried to push that thought aside.</p><p>He stopped at the landing, looking into the hallway. Three doors on each side; he wasn’t sure which was Blondie’s, but looking at the numbers on the doors would be enough to tell him.</p><p>He wasn’t sure why he lingered so long at the landing. He also wasn’t sure why he finally turned away, instead making the trek down to the main floor and one of the bathhalls.</p><p>And if the next several people to see him in the main hall thought he was waiting for someone?</p><p>Well, that was their problem. He wasn't.</p>
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